


Family Affair

by tendervittles



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ambiguous Relationships, Anal Fisting, Brainwashing, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Drugs, Explicit Sexual Content, Father/Son Incest, Half-Sibling Incest, Implied Relationships, Incest, M/M, Oral Sex, Psychological Torture, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Stockholm Syndrome, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-08 03:05:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1924374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tendervittles/pseuds/tendervittles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roose wants to teach his most unruly son.  Domeric wants to get some sleep.  Ramsay only wants to please.  No Bolton understands what it means to have appropriate boundaries.  Theon Greyjoy is an unfortunate casualty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> More gross trash brought to you from the cesspool that is my mind.  
> Enjoy! <3

Ramsay checked the clock again, even though it had been barely five minutes since he lasted looked at the time.   _Where is he?_  
  
Daddy had gone to drop Domeric off at his _harp lesson_.  What a loser.  Only losers like his big brother played _harp_.  Ramsay had wanted drum lessons, but his father didn't like the noise.  He had had to settle for trumpet and quit after two months.  
  
Ramsay had talents though, even if they were _Domeric's_ kind of talents.  So what if he couldn't play the stupid harp, or ride stupid horses good?  He could make Daddy proud in other ways, _better_  ways.  
  
Like today.  Ramsay had been planning this surprise for _months_ , practically ever since Theon Greyjoy had transferred to their school.    
  
He had disliked Theon from the first time he saw him; his artfully mussed hair (did he seriously use _hair spray_?), the way he smiled at everything, especially the girls.  He palled around with Robb Stark, who everyone thought was so nice.  (He would occasionally nod at Ramsay in the hall, but was he ever invited to the parties that homecoming king Robb threw at the Stark home?   _No._ )  
  
And that had all been before Theon had called him a bastard _to his face_.  
  
It had happened in biology, the only class Ramsay really liked.  Domeric wasn't with him; they were a grade apart, and besides, Domeric was in all honors and APs, like a big nerd.   _Usually_  Ramsay would hang around his big brother at school (Domeric might be lame sometimes, but he was family and Father said Boltons _always_  stick together, because they're better than other people), but Domeric wasn't there this time, so.    
  
Theon had been laughing and joking _as usual_.  Perched on a desk, he was going around the room and teasing different girls.  Sansa Stark could hardly contain her mirth as Theon good-naturedly ripped into her best friend, Jeyne Poole.  Jeyne was giggling helplessly too, slapping at Theon's arm.  
  
With the female portion of the room exhausted, Theon had glanced around for a new source of material.  "Hey, you in the back, big bastard!"  
  
Ramsay's eyes had narrowed when he realized Theon was addressing  _him_.  The entire class had fallen silent, but Greyjoy was still oblivious to his misstep; he was so enthralled with himself, fucking asshole.   _Didn't he know who he was talking to?_  
  
Finally Sansa had leaned over and whispered in Theon's ear.   _Then_  his face went a bit pale, which was satisfying, but he threw out another joke, _of course_  ("Hey man, I'm sorry, asshole new kid, am I right?").  But Ramsay barely heard him as he pushed his way out of the room.  
  
 _Domeric isn't the only one who has self-control_ , Ramsay consoled himself once he had escaped.   _I could have punched that little shit in the face and broken his pretty teeth, but I didn't._   Dad had _just_ given him a lecture and punishment for setting his new dog Kyra on neighborhood kids who strayed too close to the Boltons' yard.   _I'm a good son too, not just Domeric_.  
  
After that Ramsay had decided to reward himself by skipping classes for the rest of the day.   _There were only two left, that wasn't really SO bad, was it?_   But then when he got home Dad had walked in  _right_  as Domeric was asking him where he'd been after seventh period and somehow Father had deduced that Ramsay had been cutting.  When asked point-blank, Ramsay couldn't lie; Dad would know and anyway, he _wanted_  to be good, really he did.  
  
His confession had earned him another round with the belt and lots of unflattering comparisons to his big brother (mercifully Father hadn't ordered Domeric to watch this time, probably because Ramsay had been so honest).    
  
All in all, Ramsay supposed it hadn't been _so_  bad, but what Theon had done was unforgiveable and now he would have his revenge _and_  show Daddy just how good he could be.  He knew all about the Bolton family history, because he could listen just as well as Domeric and he _loved_  when Dad told them stories of his father, and his father's father before him.  Ramsay shared their blood, even if he _was_  a bastard, and the way he figured it, that made him a Bolton too.  
  
 _Daaaad, where ARE you?_   Ramsay huffed impatiently and walked back into his bedroom, where he had left an unconscious Theon Greyjoy tossed unceremoniously on the floor.  Why couldn't Domeric just drive _himself_  to his damn lesson?  He was afraid Theon would wake up before he was supposed to; it had taken Ramsay longer than he expected to trek through the woods that butted up against the back of the Bolton property after he had jumped the Greyjoy boy and knocked him out.  
  
He had wanted to tie Theon up in the basement, that's what Dad would have done, but Ramsay wasn't allowed down there without supervision (Domeric wasn't either; it was their father's special place) and door was locked.  
  
Instead, Ramsay had to tie and gag his captive in his room.  The effect wasn't quite what he had been going for, but it would have to be good enough.  
  
Finally, _finally_ , Ramsay heard the front door open and shut.  His disappointment about the basement quickly forgotten, he went quickly to greet his father.  
  
Roose Bolton was in the hall, hanging up his coat and placing it in the closet _just so_.  "Hi Daddy!" Ramsay greeted him excitedly, smiling as prettily as he could.   
  
"Ramsay." His dad replied, "Have you finished your homework?"  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
He might have rushed a little so he could go get Theon, but everything _was_  done.  
  
"I--ah--I have a surprise for you.  Dad.  Come and see...?"  
  
"Is this a special occasion?"  
  
"Ah, no... no.  It's just... I love you, Daddy." Ramsay said sweetly.  
  
Roose didn't reply, just let Ramsay lead him down the hallway to his bedroom.  He didn't even say anything when Ramsay pushed open the door to reveal Theon's prone form.  At least, not at first.  
  
"What is this?" Father asked coolly when he finally spoke.  
  
"Theon Greyjoy, he's Balon Greyjoy's son, he lived with the Starks for a while though," He explained in rush, "He transferred to our school."  
  
"And now he is unconscious on my floor because...?"  
  
Ramsay frowned, scrambling to think of what to say.  This isn't going at all how he had planned.  Daddy was supposed to say he was a good boy and take him down to the secret basement room so they could share Ramsay's present.  
  
"I got him for you." Ramsay tried, "Like... as a gift.  You know, I thought maybe we could take him downstairs..."  
  
His father sighed.  "You've hardly given me a choice in the matter.  Just _what_ , pray, were you thinking?  That there is no one who will miss the boy?"  
  
"There isn't!" Ramsay insisted.  He is getting excited again, in spite of his father's less than enthusiastic reaction.  He really thought things through this time, he did.  
  
"Balon Greyjoy's an old jerk, you _know_  that.  Theon's lived with the Starks for years, only Catelyn kicked him out after Eddard died, him and Jon both.  He went back to Balon, but he doesn't care about him, really.  His sister's his only family member who gives a shit, and she's off at some naval ROTC thing or something.  Robb Stark might miss him, but what can he do?  No one even saw me take him, I _swear_!"  
  
His father looked at Theon thoughtfully and Ramsay allowed himself to hope.   _Say it, say I've done good._     
  
"Very well.  Help me with him."  
  
Together as father and son, they carried Theon by his arms and legs out of Ramsay's room and down the long hallway.  The basement door was all the way at the end.  
  
"Take him." Father instructed when they reached it.  Ramsay hefted Theon over his shoulder.  He was so _excited_ ; Dad was unlocking the basement door and beckoning him down the stairs, just like he wanted.  
  
Ramsay had been downstairs before, but the setup his father kept down there awed him every time.  The entire thing was soundproof.  The floors were covered in plush carpet, except in the area where Dad kept his tools.  And the cross.  It was a huge, nearly scraping the ceiling.  It was so big Ramsay often wondered how Father even managed to get it down here, almost as often as he wondered what it would be like to play on it.  If he and Domeric were allowed free reign down here, he would have persuaded his older brother to tie him up on the thing.  Just for fun.  Just to see what Domeric would do.  
  
Their father's tools were fun to look at as well.  They were even more fun to touch, when Daddy allowed it.  He had more knives than Ramsay had ever known existed, for more purposes than he could imagine in all his darkest daydreams.  If he absolutely  _had_  to choose, Ramsay would say his favorites were the flaying knives (Dad liked those the best too, Ramsay could tell by the amount of time his father spent sharpening and polishing them).  Rubies cut to look like drops of blood sparkled in the hilts of each one.  
  
Besides the pretty, pretty knives, Dad kept a bunch of other things in his sanctuary.  Bookshelves were built into the wall by the cushy leather sofa and Father's high-backed chair.  Some of them had been passed down for generations.  There was even a great gray wolf skin hanging from the wall.  Father had killed that one _himself_ , armed with only one of his knives; he'd told Ramsay and Domeric so the first time he brought them down here.  
  
Dad had shown them some other cool stuff too.  There was the bag of surgical supplies that had belonged to some Bolton who had come over from England in the early 1900s (or was it the late 1800s?).  A strange, flesh-colored disk had been passed down with that.  Father had explained that it  _was_  flesh--specifically, a women's breast.  Ramsay had tried to touch it but Father had slapped his hand away.  
  
Then there were the leeches, in two tanks, to keep the fat black ones from mixing with the skinny translucent kind.  There was a long table by the tanks, like the kind you might find in a massage parlor, that Dad would stretch out on, naked, while the leeches did their work.  Ramsay and Domeric had their own tables too, but they were folded up and put away right now.  Ramsay didn't like leechings very much; Daddy would always comment on how much bad blood he had, on account of _being a bastard_.  
  
Father and Domeric said the leechings made them calm.  Ramsay didn't see how, but he had resolved to keep at it.  He just wanted to be good (to please _Daddy_ , of course; who cared about dumb, stupid _Domeric_?).  
  
Sometimes Domeric got invited to the basement when Dad had _other_  people down here, the people who would never come out.  Their father had started allowing it soon after Domeric had turned eighteen.  Ramsay didn't think that was very fair; he was stronger than Domeric, and almost as tall, but Dad wouldn't hear any complaints about it.  
  
But now, _now_ , things are different. He’s here with Daddy now. Just him.  And Theon.  But Theon doesn’t count.

“Bring him over there.” Father instructed.  He’s gesturing to the cross.  “We’ll have to bind him properly.”

“Yeah, Dad!” Ramsay blurted.  He can’t help it; he’s _really, really_ excited.

Roose raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment on his youngest son’s delight. He beckoned Ramsay to the cross. Together, they lifted Theon against the wooden arms.  Dad did the tying; Ramsay knew from Domeric that their father was very particular about how these things were done.

“See,” Dad said as he checked the knots with his long fingers, “Tight enough to hold him up, but not so tight circulation is entirely cut off.”  
  
Ramsay nodded along with the explanation.  
  
“Dad, when are we gonna—“  
  
Roose held up a hand to silence him.  He turned from Theon’s lifeless form and strolled over to his chair.  He tried to keep his face neutral, but Ramsay can feel his distress is showing.  _Maybe Daddy doesn’t like his present._

“Ramsay.  Over here.”

With a desperate look at Theon on the cross, Ramsay crossed the room to join Father.

“Here.” Dad ordered, pointing to the floor when Ramsay moved towards the couch, “At my feet.”

He doesn’t know what to think. _Is Daddy mad at me?  Did I make him happy?_   As usual, Roose’s face betrays nothing.

He curls his legs underneath him as he sits, leaning against one of the chair legs.  When Ramsay folds his arms on Roose’s legs and rests his head on them, he is pleasantly surprise that he isn’t swatted away.

“Maybe I haven’t been fair to you.” 

_What’s Daddy talking about?_   Ramsay has to pay attention.  He can’t let his excitement distract him.  This is important.  He’s going to listen so closely.

“Domeric has been in my charge his entire life, while you were left to that… that woman.  It’s no surprise you should seek my favor with such a reckless display.  Perhaps it’s been difficult for you, living in your brother’s shadow. By all rights I should punish you…”

Ramsay’s stomach tightened. _Daddy no!_  

Father lifted his hand and Ramsay braced for the back of his father’s hand across his face. But instead Daddy’s long fingers curled into his hair, rubbing his scalp slightly.

“But I think a different sort of lesson will better serve.  On your feet.  Clothes off.”

Ramsay scrambled up, pulling his shirt over his head before he had even regained his feet (he was wearing his favorite, the one Domeric always teased him about, because Father had the same one).  He kicked off his sneakers without bothering to undo the laces and pulled his pants and boxer briefs down together. 

Daddy can see how hard he is now; can see how Ramsay’s cock is already leaking.  He should be embarrassed (he _must_ have bad blood, why else would he practically be coming himself already?).  

His father doesn’t say anything, but stood and approached his youngest son, drawing a knife from his pocket.

“I understand you brought the boy for me.  He will be our little… project.  A pet, for you, if you can keep him well in hand.”

“Yes Daddy.” Ramsay replied, “I can do it, I can, I promise!” 

“Then show me. Pay attention now. You’ll have to train him… break him and reshape the pieces into something that will never reveal our secrets. I cannot impress upon you enough how important that is.  Do you understand me?”  Father offered him the knife, hilt first.

“Yes sir.” Ramsay said, keeping his voice as solemn and serious as possible as he accepted the blade. In his chest, his heart sings.

He is so grateful. Ramsay sidled up to his father. “ _Daddyyyy_.” He whined, hooking his chin over Roose’s shoulder.  “Daddy, thank you.” His hand slipped around Father’s hip to press against his cock.  He is hard as Ramsay.

“Is that so?” Father asked, plucking Ramsay’s hand away.

“Of course Daddy.” Ramsay mewed, trying not to sound petulant.

“Then get on your knees and thank me properly.”


	2. Chapter 2

Ramsay sank to the floor.  He had been so worried Daddy wouldn’t like his present, but everything is going _much_ better than expected now.  He just wanted to bond with Father and show him what a good son he is, and now he’ll have his chance.  Let Domeric has his stupid harp lessons and ponies and his best friend Mychel Redfort.

He reached for his father as he drew closer. 

“First lesson:  Patience. This will not be like training one of your dogs.”  Ramsay bit back a moan as his father drew out his cock and placed it lightly against his lips. “Open.”

Ramsay stretched his jaw as wide as he could; Daddy had scolded him once for letting his teeth scrape the delicate flesh of his cock.  Ramsay would _never_ let that happen again.

“You may begin.”

Ramsay sighed as he leaned forward to take Father’s cock in his mouth and suck with wet enthusiasm.  _No one can make Daddy come like I can, not even Domeric_. His father’s cock fits snugly in his mouth, pressing against the back of his throat.  It was difficult not to gag, but Ramsay squeezed his eyes shut and took Roose’s cock deeper.  _I’m such a good son. Daddy’s proud of me._

He moaned again when Daddy grabbed him by the hair.  His own cock ached for release; he dribbled onto the nice carpet. His father fucked his mouth with short, even strokes, but Ramsay didn’t mind.  He loved when Daddy took his pleasure like this. 

* * *

Later, passed midnight, tiptoed down the hall as quietly has he could.  His bare feet made soft, whispery sounds across the polished wooden floors, but none of the floorboards creaked under his weight.  For once, Ramsay was grateful for his father fastidious nature; everything in their house was meticulously maintained, even the floor.  Even so, Ramsay paused every so often to hold his breathe and listen.  _I mustn't wake Daddy; he needs his rest._

Honestly, he almost hoped he would be able to hear Theon's wails echoing through the floorboards from below, but that was silly.  The basement was soundproof; Father had told him that enough times.  He also wished Daddy had given him a key to the basement door 'cause Daddy said Theon was to be  _his_  and he was excited and wanted to play with his pet _now._ But his father had conditions and chief among them was that he wouldn't be permitted alone time with Theon until Father deemed _both_ of them ready.

The rules made Ramsay wonder if he would beat Domeric at something for once.  The first to be allowed downstairs unsupervised!   _Wouldn't that be something?_   Unless Daddy had already let Domeric go down into the basement by himself. That thought was troubling and almost made Ramsay turn around and go back to his room, but he was already outside Domeric's door, and if he couldn't visit with Theon, at least he could tell his big brother what a fun time they'd had.

He turned the doorknob fully to the left so he could open the door and slip in silently.  

Domeric slept much like he did everything else; neatly and properly.  From what Ramsay could see of his brother's sleeping form in the moonlight that had found it's way through the shades, Domeric was laid out on his stomach, one hand tucked under his chin (Ramsay didn't understand why Domeric bothered to make his bed _every day_ when he barely disturbed the covers at all while asleep). 

Ramsay crept up on him and sat down heavily on the edge of the bed.  The mattress jumped, but Domeric didn't even stir.  Ramsay frowned.  "Domeric!" He whispered.  He bounced the bed again.  " _Domericccc_!  Come on, _wake uppp_!"  His voice lilted up into a drawn-out whine.

It was no good.   _God, Domeric, you're so STUPID._

But Ramsay knew just the trick to wake up his big brother.

There was enough room on the bed for Ramsay to lay down too.  Domeric was facing away, with his head turned to the left.  Ramsay threw one arm around his brother's waist and nuzzled his soft hair.  He smelled like Domeric always did, which was sort of similar to how Dad smelled, except with a musky odor underneath that was just _Domeric_.  Ramsay liked it.

Impatiently, he tugged at the blankets until he wenched them from under Domeric's weight.  Ramsay looped his arm around his brother again, letting his hand press against Domeric's crotch.   _Ugh, why does he have to wear PAJAMAS?_   Ramsay ground his hips into Domeric's ass.  "Domericccc." He whispered, " _Pleaseee_ wake up?"  He accented his plea by slipping his hand down the front of Domeric's pants to give his cock a squeeze.

Domeric gave a soft moan and rolled onto his back.  Ramsay took advantage of the change of position, nestling against his shoulder and tipping his head back so he could nibble his brother's earlobe.

"Mmm, what?" Domeric murmured.  In a moment he was more fully awake.  "Ramsay?  What are you doing in here?"  Ramsay's hand was slapped away.  Domeric and Dad were always doing that.   _No touching, Ramsay_ , he thought sullenly.  Theon would _never_  slap him away, and if he did, well, Ramsay would just have to punish him for it.  It's not like Daddy and Domeric didn't like his touches, sometimes.

Domeric propped himself up against the pillows.  "Well?" He asked, "What do you want?"

"I couldn't sleep.  Did Daddy tell you what we did today?" Ramsay replied.  He couldn't keep the excitement out of his voice.

"He told me about your foolish taking of Theon Greyjoy."  Domeric's tone was haughty, with his usual air of superiority, but Ramsay refused to let it get to him.

"We took him downstairs together!" Ramsay continued, "I got him for Daddy, like a present, you know?  But Dad said _I_  can keep him now, all I gotta do it train him a little bit, but Daddy's gonna show me how and if I do a good job, he's mine!"

His brother sighed and shook his head, but in the moonlight Ramsay could see he was smiling slightly.

"And let me guess," He teased, "You couldn't sleep... because you're too excited?"  Now it was Domeric squeezing _Ramsay's_  cock, finding him already hard.

"Mhmmm..." Ramsay groaned as Domeric stroked him.  "Won't you help me, big brother?"

Domeric tsked.  "So needy.  Am I not helping right now?"

He _was,_ technically, but it wasn't enough.  Ramsay rolled his hips, trying to make Domeric pump him faster.  "I want you to fuck me." He mewed.  Somehow Domeric always ended up in control, making Ramsay wheedle and whine and beg him for release.  It was hardly fair.

His brother withdrew his hand.  Ramsay immediately reached for his brother's length again.  Domeric was hard now too, surely that was a good sign.  "I'll suck you." Ramsay murmured, pressing his lips to Domeric's throat.

When his big brother sighed, Ramsay knew he'd won.  

"If it will get you to sleep." Domeric murmured, shifting under the blankets.   

_Of course, leave it to Domeric to act like he doesn't enjoy it._ He was quick enough to throw back the covers and wiggle out of his pants.  Ramsay enjoyed the motion of his brother's hips as Domeric shucked off his briefs and was on him before his brother's clothes dropped to the floor beside the bed.

"If you want me to fuck you, you'll have to slow down." Domeric groaned as Ramsay's lips slid up and down his length.  Ramsay hummed a response.  He felt too charged up to slow down, but no one knew how to temper him quite like his brother.

Ramsay withdrew momentarily, grinning in the moonlight.

"You'd better hurry up then, big brother.  You know what Daddy says... I have trouble controlling my _urges."_

Mentioning Father in their more... intimate... moments never failed to get Domeric riled.

It certainly did the trick now; Domeric reached for him (Ramsay loved it when his brother got excited enough to forsake propriety and manhandle him properly). 

He did so now, wrestling Ramsay onto his stomach and forcing his hands above his head.  The mattress shifted as Domeric kneel between Ramsay's legs.  He wrenched his brother's limbs further apart and got into position.  " _Hurryyyy_." Ramsay moaned, but Domeric only shushed him.   _As usual_ , his brother would take him at his own pace. 

Domeric's hand slid over the swell of Ramsay's ass and over his hip.  "Would you like to tell me about your day?" Domeric asked.  Ramsay could only answer him with a groan of desperation.

"Come now."  Domeric was teasing him again, with hand and word.  "You were so eager to talk about it a moment ago."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, I'll get to Theon and stuff in the next chapter. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, finally an update! It's p gross.

Ramsay struggled, but Domeric’s weight was on him, pinning him down. Domeric didn’t have Ramsay’s brute strength, but he knew all the right spots to press down on and anyway his hand was on Ramsay’s cock and it’s not like Ramsay could fight against something that felt so good – really, who could? 

“Only if you do it.” Ramsay demanded. It briefly crossed his mind that demanding something when you’re the one pinned down is a lot like begging for it and that caused him to struggle fruitlessly once again.

“Do what?” Domeric asked. Ramsay couldn’t see his brother’s face but he knew Domeric was smiling, could hear the laughter in his voice.

“Fuck me.” Ramsay mewed.

Domeric actually did laugh this time, out loud. Ramsay wiggled furiously under him. That made Domeric shut up, and his big brother moaned and moved both his hands to Ramsay’s hips, squeezing him there, hard, and pressing his cock right up against Ramsay’s bottom.

“Then do as I said, and tell big brother allllll about your very big day.” Domeric insisted.

Ramsay had no choice but to give in. His cock was aching; he knew Domeric’s probably was too, but somehow Domeric had gotten Daddy’s self-control because somehow Domeric got everything and so he could outlast Ramsay and the only way to get any release at all was to give Domeric what he wanted.

Ramsay huffed and whined into the bedspread. “Fiiiine, Dumb-Eric,” He spat, “You win. But you better not get too jealous...”

“I think I can manage, little brother.”

Ramsay ignored that and focused on remembering what had happened next, after Father spilled into his mouth…

\-------------------------------------------------

Roose stood abruptly, like his orgasm was nothing more than an itch he’d deigned to have Ramsay scratch. Ramsay was still on his knees, savoring the taste of his father’s seed, salty on his lips and thick in the back of his throat. He wanted to touch his own cock, but he wanted to be a good boy for Daddy more, and Roose never let Ramsay touch himself without permission when they played together. Maybe it had taken him some time to learn, but Ramsay would never make such a juvenile mistake with Father now.

Daddy walked over to the saltire, stopping a few feet away to observe. Up on the cross, Theon moaned, as if he could sense that he had become the center of attention. His head, which had been lolled to one side, dropped forward. The boy started, went limp again, and then slowly began to come to.

Ramsay was getting impatient; he and Daddy hadn’t even done anything yet, and Theon was already groaning and testing his restraints. He stood and hurried over, brushing passed Roose in his haste. Out of the corner of his eye, Ramsay caught Roose’s frown, but Daddy didn’t move to stop him, and in his excitement, Ramsay took that for consent.

It’s not like I’m going to actually DO anything yet…

It was just that Theon’s long hair hid his face and Ramsay couldn’t wait to see the surprise on his new pet’s face when he figured out where he was and who he belonged to now. He grabbed a handful of Theon’s tresses and yanked his head up.

The breath caught in Theon’s throat as he took in the sight of his captor. It seems to take him a moment to identify Ramsay’s face. That was a little annoying, but then again, Theon was a little slow to begin with.

“Remember me, sweetheart?” Ramsay asked in his most syrupy, fake-nice voice. He smiled and tugged Theon’s hair again, forcing Theon to meet his eyes.

“What’s going on? Is this some kind of joke?” Theon asked.

“Ramsay…” Roose never, ever yelled, yet somehow he always managed to make himself heard.

Ramsay resented the interruption. He hadn’t even gotten started and already Daddy was butting in. Why couldn’t he give him a chance? A burst of anger flared in Ramsay’s chest and he gripped Theon’s hair tighter. The boy winced.

“Ramsay.” 

Father didn’t like to be ignored. Ramsay turned, lest Daddy decide to take his new toy away. He couldn’t – wouldn’t – let that happen, even if he had to beg. Sometimes Daddy was teasing and that was all he really wanted, after all.

Roose stepped closer and pressed something into Ramsay’s hand. He looked down. The syringe was filled with about an inch of a pale yellow liquid Ramsay didn’t recognize.

“Wha--?” 

Roose quieted him with subtle shake of his head. He gestured to Theon with an open palm. 

Ohhhh. Ramsay grinned and nodded excitedly. He tucked the needle against the length of his wrist, hiding it from view, and turned back to Theon.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” Ramsay crooned against Theon’s ear, “But we’ll have ages and ages to have all kinds of fun together.”

Theon only groaned and struggled against his bonds, more trying to get comfortable on the cross than trying to escape in earnest.

“Shhh, settle down, sweetheart.” Ramsay pressed himself against Theon, savoring the size disparity between them. He was so much bigger. This was turning out better than he even imagined. What a good idea this was. He made sure Theon could feel how hard he was.

“Why are you doing this?” Theon asked, his eyes fluttering closed. His voice was thick; poor thing was still a little groggy from that blow to the head.

“Because,” Ramsay giggled, “You deserve it, silly.”

Theon just blinked and looked confused. Poor dear. Maybe Ramsay had kidnapped Theon to punish him, but really, Ramsay was going to help him.

First things first, though. Ramsay cradled Theon’s head in his left hand and maneuvered the syringe in his right, careful to keep it out of sight. Theon gasped in surprise as the needle entered his flesh, right where his neck met his shoulder. Ramsay pressed the plunger and watched the yellow liquid inside disappear. A small droplet of blood appeared as Ramsay discarded the syringe, letting it clattered to the floor (Father made a disapproving noise in the background, but Ramsay barely heard). He bent his head to Theon’s neck and kissed the blood away.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thramsay fingering with a side of Roose voyeurism.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being really long. I hope it doesn't suck!!!!!

“Wah di’you do t’me…” Theon’s words were slurred now.

 “Just a little something to help you relax, sweetie, so I can take you down from there.” Ramsay kept his voice low and calm.  He wanted Theon to feel comfortable right now.

“You’ve been a very naughty boy.” Ramsay informed Theon.  He tried to sound _very_ serious and proper, just like when Daddy scolded _him_.  

Ramsay worked his fingers under the straps that bound Theon and began working on the knots.  A few tugs and one hand was free.  Theon’s arm dropped limply to his side.  Ramsay knelt and freed one ankle, then the other, before returning to see to straps on Theon’s other wrist. 

Free from his restraints, Theon collapsed forward into Ramsay’s arms. Ramsay knew from Father’s explanations that Theon’s extremities were likely readjusting to renewed blood circulation. The pins and needles spreading throughout his limbs was probably making it difficult to move, not to mention the drug Ramsay had injected was now dramatically reducing his muscle control.

Ramsay bent to scoop Theon up into his arms.  Theon fit perfectly against him; with his face tucked against Ramsay’s chest, Ramsay could rest just chin on top of the smaller boy’s head and inhale the scent of his hair.  He smelled vaguely floral.  But that could be fixed. 

Settling Theon down on the couch, Ramsay chanced a glance behind him, realizing with a start that maybe Daddy had gotten bored and stopped watching when Ramsay hadn’t even gotten to the good part yet.

But Father was still standing there, still watching.  His expression appeared passive, _almost_ disinterested, but his eyes missed nothing.  Any misstep would be filed away in Roose’s mind to be addressed later, probably with Ramsay bent over and his ass in the air.

But there would be no mistakes.  Not today. 

Ramsay knelt on the carpet again, positioning himself in front of Theon this time, instead of between his father’s legs.  Kneeling before Daddy made him feel small, but this time, even in this normally submissive position, he was in charge.  Even Daddy would say so.

He stroked Theon’s hair, fingers catching in the knots and snags that had formed throughout the day’s ordeal.  The fine tresses were silky soft.  Ramsay’s cock twitched.

Suddenly, Ramsay just _had_ to get Theon out of his clothes.  He wasn’t meant to be kept dressed and clean and comfortable; it didn’t suit him _at all_.  He tugged at Theon’s shirt, but the boy’s body was limp and unresponsive, and it was too hard to maneuver the shirt over his head like this.

“Daddyyyyy,” Ramsay whined, looking back, “I need a knife, pleaseeee?” Daddy didn’t always like to share his toys (except with stupid Domeric, the fucking golden boy).

Roose didn’t move.  “You know where they are.”

Ramsay didn’t need to hear anymore.  Grinning, he scrambled to his feet, practically tripping over himself in his excitement.  Daddy’s tools were laid out just like they always were, the jeweled handles of the flaying knives sparkling, the sharp points of the blades reflecting the light.

Cutting through clothing didn’t _really_ require a precision blade, but Daddy didn’t say he couldn’t use one…

Ramsay plucked the knife off its tray and hurried back to Theon before Daddy could refuse him his choice. 

Things went much faster with the blade.  He made a mess of Theon’s clothes, reducing his shirt and pants to rags before finally pulling them off and throwing them to the floor (Ramsay made a mental note to clean up after; Daddy would _not_ be pleased if he left a mess).  He even remembered to return the knife to its proper place before proceeding.

Theon’s boxers were the last thing to go.  He wouldn’t be needing them (or any clothes) anymore, but Ramsay still stripped them off carefully.  Then he paused, balanced on his heels, savoring the naked form before him. Theon’s cock hung limply against one thigh, but his nipples had puckered in the cool basement air. Ramsay ran a hand up Theon’s stomach to pinch a hard point of pink flesh between his fingers.

The sensation stirred Theon back to consciousness.  He tried to twist away, but just slight pressure from Ramsay’s hand was enough to hold him in place.  _Clearly_ , they had a lot of work ahead of them.  Ramsay pinched Theon’s nipple sharply as punishment, eliciting a gasp and moan.

Ramsay giggled.  This was going to be so much fun.  Ramsay was only teasing and Theon was already getting his panties in a twist!

 He couldn’t stop laughing.  It was like he had never had such a good time before—and maybe he hadn’t—because Father wouldn’t _allow_ it, and Domeric, Domeric was such a poor playmate, always pretending to be so serious because he wanted to be just like Daddy.

 He flopped onto the couch next to Theon’s head and pulled the boy onto his lap. He wanted them to do _everything_ together. They were going to be _inseparable_ (even if Theon couldn’t exactly go back to school or anything now).  Ramsay planted a kiss on the top of Theon’s head.

 “Please…” Theon moaned.  He tried to struggle away again.

 “ _No_.” Ramsay scolded, “ _Bad_.  You have to hold _still_.”

 Theon ignored his command.  “Please… please let me go.”

 Ramsay shushed him.  “I can’t let you go.” He murmured against Theon’s ear, “You’ve been a very bad boy and you need to be punished.  No one’s even going to miss you, sweetheart, but it’s all going to be okay because you’re mine now, and I’m going to take _gooooood_ care of you.”

 "You must forgive my son his petty torments.” Father interjected, ignoring Ramsay and addressing Theon directly, “It’s the bad blood, you see. It afflicts Ramsay more than most—his bastard blood causes him to become overexcited.  But the essence of his statement is correct. We won’t be allowing you to leave, so please put the thought out of your mind.  This will go easier for you if you accept your position.”

 Ramsay’s anger rankled a bit.  Why did Daddy _always_ have to bring up his bad blood?  It wasn’t fair.

 But Roose had a way of speaking that made people listen and Ramsay immediately sensed an air of resignation come over Theon; he went limp again in Ramsay’s arms and a sob escaped him, echoing off the basement’s fixtures.

 “Please, don’t hurt me.”

Ramsay had of course been toying with the idea of doing just that, but it might be more entertaining in the long run to let Theon think that his requests mattered.  Maybe he would try something that might be enjoyable for both of them…  Ramsay was in a good position to run his hand down to the curve of Theon’s ass and give him a good squeeze.

 That did it.  He needed to fuck.

Mind made up, Ramsay slipped a hand between Theon’s ass cheeks.  His flesh was warm and soft and Ramsay didn’t want to waste time loosening him up first; he wanted to thrust inside Theon _right now_ and show him who he belonged to, but Daddy was saying “Ramsay” and Ramsay had to pay attention…

 “I doubt the Starks fucked him as a condition for taking him in.  The boy’s hole is likely untouched as yet; you should make use of this if you don’t want to damage him irreparably. Taking a virgin can be quite enjoyable, if you do it correctly.”

Roose handed him a small bottle of lubricant and Ramsay gave him his biggest, most winning smile in return.

“Thank you, Daddy.” He said sweetly.

Roose didn’t acknowledge that, but studied Ramsay until his scrutiny became uncomfortable and Ramsay had to duck his head down.  _Is Daddy mad at me?_  

“You’ve done well thus far, Ramsay.  Don’t disappoint me.”

It wasn’t praise, exactly, not like when Daddy spoke to _Domeric_ after one of his harp performances or when _they_ spent time in the basement today.  Domeric usually got showered in compliments and kind words like _you’ve done a fine job_ or _you’re a good son_. Sometimes Daddy would even touch Domeric on the shoulder when congratulating him.

What Ramsay wouldn’t do to catch the tiniest bit of pride in Father’s eyes when he looked at his youngest son.

Imagining what that would be like, Ramsay’s cock grew harder than he’d thought possible. Unconsciously, he squeezed Theon’s bottom.

Theon whimpered.  “Please, not that.”  His voice was soft, barely above a whisper, and as he spoke, a tear slipped out of one eye and ran down his cheek.  Ramsay bent forward to kiss it away, then reconsidered.  He poked his tongue out against Theon’s cheek instead and tasted the salty droplet.  He liked the taste all the better for having elicited it all by himself.

“I’m going to loosen you up first, silly!  You heard what my father said.”  Honestly, Theon was being _such_ a baby.  Ramsay had barely done anything with him yet! 

“Ohhh, you’re going to need _a lot_ of training. But we’ll start with this first…” 

Ramsay used just the very tip of a finger to tease at Theon’s entrance. He made gentle, slow circles in a way he thought would be nice for his new pet.  Instead of responding by opening up or baring down against Ramsay’s finger (much the way Ramsay did when treated to the same by Domeric or Father), Theon shuddered and pulled _away_ from him.  He didn’t even let out a single moan, not one cry of pleasure!

Ramsay was incensed.  What was _wrong_ with Theon? Ramsay had taken him down from that uncomfortable cross, cuddled up with him, tried to soothe his fears, and now was offering to make him feel good, after Theon had _deliberately insulted him_ by calling him a—a _b-word_.

He glanced up, intending to teach Theon on lesson, maybe by taking off a finger (two fingers maybe?).  He was about to rise, to rush to the table and retrieve the flaying knife he had used to free Theon from his restraints, when he caught Roose’s eye.

Father had settled into his special chair, about as close to relaxed as he ever got, and was watching Ramsay.  By all appearances, his demeanor was calm, yet Ramsay knew he was still watching closely. If Ramsay were to succumb to his emotions and lash out, Father would know.  He was just  _waiting_ for Ramsay to fuck up.  Waiting for an opportunity to take Theon away from him, even.

Ramsay had to keep his temper.  Theon was _his_.  There would be plenty of time to spend re-making him after Ramsay got him all warmed up and pliant.  There was little sense in _really_ hurting Theon now—poor baby wouldn’t even understand what he had done wrong, why he deserved it.  But Ramsay could be patient.  He _could_.  He would prove it.


End file.
